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undermine-the-instinct · 1 month

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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader

Read on A03...

Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab!

Masterlist.../ Next part....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

NOTE: Rin and Sesshoumaru are so found-family core to me, so I absolutely DO NOT ship SessRin.

Content: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshomaru, HumanOmega!Reader, AFAB READER, FEM CODED READER, period mentions, era appropriate misogyny, servant/master dynamics.

Length: 8.9k

Part 1 out of 4

Listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the book of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.

The inn that Sesshoumaru leads you to is weathered but sturdy, and most importantly, empty.

You’re surprised at the fact that the inn is a honjin, and not a cheap Kichin-yado, like the ones you've seen sparingly in other villages. This is a post town though, so it makes sense.

It is late, but beyond that the night is still, stale. The wind hardly moves, and you know the signs of a desolate town before the wariness in the residents' eyes can tell you. Scared perhaps, and desperate.

The woman who runs the inn is much like it, a bit old, but grounded, and elegant, as she stoops into a low bow and accepts the pouch Sesshoumaru hands with due reverence and trembling hands.

“Four days. Attend to their needs, whatever they may be. Your head depends on it.” You hand Rin to him, and he sets the child down on her feet with care that belies his stern brow. You take his hand next and hop down from A-Un, and he retracts his hand as soon as you are steady on your feet.

“Get inside now. It's late.”

“Yes, My Lord.” You usher Rin in behind the innkeeper, and for just a moment, you turn to look back at your Lord who doesn't follow.

“Will you be joining us?”

His eyes flash like lanterns in the darkness before he turns away. “...Just get settled in.” And he slips into the dark.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was hard adjusting.

Leaving the 21st century for 1500’s Japan was enough of a shock, but apparently, demons existed. Yeah. Actual Demons. You’ve tried to adjust and find shelter, and a way back home, with no luck. You've been kicked and chased out of villages as mad or an ill omen (For washing your hands so often???), and you've escaped death and harm so often you swear there is either a deity who favors you, or favors your eternal anxiety over this whole situation.

It was by complete chance that you stumbled upon the Lord, in which you listed your capabilities and usefulness with the frazzled energy of a court jester at threat of beheading, the first demon to not drool and try to devour you on sight.

He cut off your rambling with an odd head tilt and a ‘accompany me then,’ despite the furious squawking from the green imp you've come to know as Jaken. You just grinned, relieved at finally finding yourself secure in this foreign place, and followed along.

You’re fine doing chores, or calling him Lord, in return for protections and shelter. You've learned how to talk in a 'appropriate manner for a woman' as the Lord ordered, but sometimes you push your luck–but you can’t help it! That reckless attitude followed you from your first life to this one, and that silky pale hair was just sooo pretty not to touch, and the barely perceptible shock in his eyes when you call him by his given name, no honorifics, is worth being forced to walk on foot for a few (dozen) miles.

Perhaps he might have thought of killing you, a few times, the sniveling thing that you were, if you hadn't piqued his interest with your charming and witty banter...that he often rewarded by cutting your rations.

He’s gotten more lenient about it now when you ‘slip up’ and you think it's like an exposure therapy sort of thing. Except the exposure part is friendship, which you think he’s never had before. It is something the both of you have to adjust to, him, with your friendship! You, with the fact that you were most likely never going home and that demons exist, and probably, subsequently, Hell. Existential crises for everyone, yay...

Yet, another thing that was hard to adjust to was…your monthlies, Things were thrown out of wack when you landed here; Your circadian cycle, sense of appropriate social interaction, your menstration, etc, so it all took a few odd weeks to come back. Your period, that is you still don't know how to talk to people or wake up early. When that happened, Sesshoumaru had already been eyeing you strangely for days you swear, even if you never really caught him in the act.

It was only when he made himself scarce, did you recall how your friend's dogs could smell your stuffs before you even could, and you promptly wanted to cringe yourself out of existence. He’s an Inuu Youkai. Dog demon.

The blood stuff started, you freaked, and Sesshoumaru promptly disappeared far ahead, leaving you to the sneering and bemoaning of Jaken. You didn't have your preferred toiletries or heating pads or anything! It was never a fun time.

The only thing that hinted to Sesshoumaru’s continued presence was the corpses of demons left in his wake, drawn in by the heavy scent of your blood, the thick trail you had left behind. He started shutting you up in an inn somewhere whenever the time comes along now, even if he’s more often late than not, which was still… oddly considerate? Well, one time you all were too far inland so you had to huddle up in a cave and that was not a good time.

Futon and tatami mats might not be a duvet, comforter and down pillows, but it was much better than a cave.

As you’re thinking, Rin trots into the room, and you brighten, immediately waving her over. Joining the group the girl was a selective mute, speaking a few precious words here and there. Surprisingly, even with Sesshoumaru being the Leader of this group and you being her favorite (obviously), the one she spoke the most often to was Jaken. She trailed and played with him often, even if the imp would call it more tormenting.

Still, the girl has done wonders on brightening this dull little group, and you adore her more than you thought you would.

Rin’s eyes light up with familiarity, and she skips over, plopping in your lap. You let out an exaggerated huff.

“Woah, I think someone had a bit too much to eat at dinner…” She pouts, shakes her head.

“Really? Because it seems like you put on a few pounds already…” She shakes her head harder and kicks her feet, so naturally you reach to tickle her toes. She screeches in laughter as you hold her in place and count off the little stubs.

“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy got roast beef, This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee!’ all the way home!”

“What sort of nursery rhyme is that?” Jaken sneers as he trots inside.

“What kind of stank face is that?” you snap back. Rin gasps against you, trying to get her breath back, and flinches back in laughter as you fake-reach for her feet again.

Tiring her out and settling into bed is easy enough, and you regale Rin with one of the many tales of your world. You tell her about electricity and skyscrapers, blimps and airplanes and lakes within caves, caves with pink salt and love stories and anything that you can recall. Even Jaken doesn't interrupt, content to sit along and listen to your tales.

In no time at all, Rin droops against you, breathing evenly, eyes barely slitted open in that way that all young children fall asleep. Jaken snores in his corner, that creepy two headed staff in his arms, but you’ve all gotten used to that so you ignore him. Slowly, and carefully, you tuck Rin in, and move to blow out the oil lamp.

But Sesshoumaru is already there, staring down at the both of you, and you jump.

“...!!” Putting a fist over your pounding heart, you just manage not to scream, and you frown at the Lord.

“You almost scared me into a heart attack!’ You hiss. You can swear he rolls his eyes– but the motion is too swift.

“Humans and their weak organs.”

“And yet we’ve managed to survive this long, and longer yet.”

“Yes, like crickets. Or roaches.”

“Hey,” you frown. “A roach can survive nuclear fallout. You and I, however, cannot.” He rolls his eyes again, and you definitely catch it, and maybe this time you were meant to.

Rin snores gently, and his eyes are drawn. “These inane stories you tell the child are senseless and impractical.”

“She likes them, they ease her. You know she’s been having nightmares recently–that last batch of demons brought back some…bad memories.” Sesshoumaru had told you how he had come to keep the girl, after he brought her back to life with Tenseiga.

You know you’re not the only one who cares for her. Sometimes, if you’re keen enough, you would look over and catch the Lord looking over the child.

She’s be caught in some silly antic, like trying to braid flowers into A-un’s double mane, or refashion Jaken’s clothes to something more fashionable; And the Lord wouldn't smile or laugh no, the Demon is a practically made of marble, but there would be a fondness in his eyes. Then he'd catch you looking and that stony wall would slide back up.

But that did a lot to humanize him in your eyes (ha). He liked to gift both you and the girl new clothes in bright colors, and on especially good days, he would pretend to be asleep as she braids his hair. Jaken would critique her technique and flower placement, it was very found-family core.

You only caught that once though and you bemoan your loss of modern photography. You would’ve loved to get that on camera.

“The stories help get her mind off of that. And did you say ‘impractical’? I would say they’re inspiring–maybe she’ll reinvent planes and be the next Amelia Earheat, traveling the world.”

He cocks his head down at you. “And what exactly happened with this woman, did she live a fulfilling life?”

“Uh, no…whilst trying to become the first woman to complete a circumnavigational global flight, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean.”

“Hence, why women should stay in the home.”

You scowl. “She didn't fail because she was a woman, she failed because she ran out of fuel for her plane. And if you must be misogynistic, she had a man with her!”

“Who let her take lead. Hence, their death.”

You click your tongue. “The inventions of women have revolutionized the world! Wireless transmission technology, central heating, kevlar fabric, the fire escape, mint ice cream; Women can be just as capable if given room to thrive.”

He waves your words away. ” I suppose then I shouldn't let you out of my sight, lest you recreate your lightning in a bottle again.”

“It's called electricity. I almost got the hang of it.”

“Hence.” He walks the length of the room, opens the sliding door to look outside of it. He stalks back in a moment later.

“There are no other guests in the inn, and I paid the old woman enough to keep it that way. After these four days we leave for the mountains.”

“Mountains…” You sigh, burying your face in the blankets.

“Can't we just fly over with A-un?”

“No. There are demon nests I must quell inside. We pass through.”

“Ugh,” You groan, flipping over. “Why? It's gonna be so hard…You know, this isn't how I imagined my life to go. So much hardship,” you whine. “If I wanted to climb mountains I would have joined a hiking group up Mount Everest or Fuji or Hiroshima or something…”

“How did you expect your life to be?” You stop your pouting, turning over to look at him, and the light from the oil lamp paints him in shades, a chiaroscuro of silver and gold.

“...What do you mean?”

“What did you expect out of life? Do you have dreams? Or did they die out when you came here?”

He waits, and you can't seem to muster up the words under the confusion you're under. Staring at him upside down, you wonder, ‘when did you ever want to know about me?’

He’s the one who breaks eye contact first, a harsh sigh pushing past his teeth. “Never mind.” He reaches inside the lamp and pinches the fire out. The room is enveloped in deepening shadows and cool tones; All moonlight and deep blues, softening into Dawn.

He turns, and his hair swishes, like a curtain of silver. A full moon, gleaming brighter here than the waning one in the lightening sky.

“Go to sleep.”

“...Goodnight, My Lord.”

“To sleep with you.”

_______________

Inu Yokai are more attuned to their senses than most demons.

It is their nature, as dog demons–their senses are what lend them their extra strength in battle, in the company of other demons–and He is a master of them all. He is a pure blooded Daiyōkai, Lord of the Western Lands. It is expected.

He has honed and sharpened and used them like any weapon, and they serve him just fine, as well as any tool or instinct.

He did not expect them to betray him like this.

The scent of your heat is a heavy, disorienting thing–but still weak compared to the true cycle of a female Inu Youkai. But where a female of his kind would enter estrus twice, maybe thrice a year, you enter it every month.

He caught the tell-tale ends of it, the day you stumbled onto his path. Faint and still unripe, rare, and no less precious for it-Omega. You wonder why so many demons chase and clamor after you, and that is why.

He found himself appalled, disgusted. But not surprised. Mortals are weak and slaves to their own biology. Such a rampant cycle must be their evolutionary way of ensuring that their population does not die out. Yet even he has to scoff at the luck you must have had to survive unblemished. A young, unclaimed, unattended Omega, even if they are human? How crass. How delightful. Like impure jade, saturated and cloudy. He keeps you anyway. He wants you anyway.

You fall into slumber easily, but fretfully, and he watches you alternate between a light and deep sleep. It is not pain or discomfort that ails you though, and he tries to tamp down the rumble in his chest at your drawn brow. He wants to soothe it. He wants to slip beside you and savor your heat.

Instead, he settles for brushing your hair back from your face, arranging it in a neat manner so that your neck stays cool, and the child won't step on it in her hurry. You’ll wake up late, more sluggish than the other two, but he’ll excuse you. Rin will rush out first, intent on cooking breakfast, which Jaken would take over, with the innkeeper's aid. You’ll wake up next, blurry eyed and guilty, intent on pulling your weight. He has instructed Jaken to make sure you rest, but recently you’ve cowed the imp into some leniency. He’ll have to check on you.

But he won't be staying in this inn, or around you long if he can help it. The scent of you before was irregular, heady and dark like blood and earth. It's a stroke for his ego (and what does that say about him) that being around an Alpha, a complimentary presentation, has helped you to…stabilize. You must have been surrounded by Betas, to have such a weak scent. But now that it's settled, your scent is something more floral now, mature, warm. ‘Like honeysuckle’, he compares.

Pungent, thick, slow, very particular. It could be mistaken for jasmine, or vanilla, but no, honeysuckle. The scent thickens now, in your estrus, trails behind you in wafts. Further fuelled by the blood residue of your menstruation. You smell like wounded animal. Maddening, enticing, frustrating. Lovely.

Blasted instincts. They demand he steps forth and assuage them, but you are human. However his urges, no matter this damn longing, you will never be on equal stance, despite your presentation. That is reason enough. It should be reason enough.

Humans like to pretend that they are better than animals, or mindless beasts, but your body relays those basic desires pretty clearly.

He wants to taste.

Four days. Four days until the worst of this passes, and he can continue on his journey. Perhaps he should have left you for dead, ages ago. Or killed you himself, to prevent anyone else the right. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and you’d still belong to him.

But he’s not going to kill you now. He’s come too far for that.

He exhales, and slides the door shut seamlessly. It is near dawn, you all arrived rather late, so he will leave you to your slumber. That dizzying scent of yours heckles at his nerves, raises his hackles just the slightest bit–lengthens his teeth and claws, he cannot meditate like this.

He stalks from the inn, irate. There were plenty of low class demons he saw on the way to this backwater village. He needs to shred something apart. He needs to put his claws in something.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next morning you wake up late, which is surprising, because usually Rin wakes you up by stepping on your hair rushing out. It lies neat around your face, and you’re left to wonder who did it for you, because it certainly wasn't you.

Rubbing the dredges of sleep from your eyes, you still as an image comes to mind; A dream, the glint of something sharp, like a whetted knife, and…something else, a soft rattle in the dark. A weight on top of you? But kinda nice, like a warm, weighted blanket in winter. Hm…White scales. The heck?

“Whatever…? Weird dream…” You would have looked up your zodiac sign for any clues in your era, but there are things to be done. The Lord doesn't shut you in an inn so you can idle about. Maybe you can find some chores to help out with.

You shake your head at the images, and get ready for the day. Jaken and Rin are nowhere to be seen, and your body aches sorely like you did a full cardio workout the night before.

You only just finish getting dressed when there's a knock, and the sliding door opens, revealing the innkeeper kneeling beyond it.

“Forgive me for intruding upon you, honored guest. Breakfast is ready in the common area. Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”

“Uh, no, I‘ll head down, thank you..” You follow her down the empty hallways, until you reach the common room. Rin and Jaken have already set up all the plates; Jaken huffs when he sees you, lifting his sleeve to his nose while Rin just beams. You decide to focus on her, Jaken has always had a sore spot with you.

“Good morning Rin! Did you help set this all up?” She nods, before gesturing wildly with her hands, your eyes flitting to catch it all, the odd few words spilling out. You can understand her easily, by now.

“Oh, and you helped cook too? Well why didn't you call me?! I feel horrible that I just slept in while you were working so hard!”

“It wasn’t hard; You would know if you weren't so incompetent. This is just something any person can do.” Jaken lifts his chin in the air, self vindicated, nose still covered. You are not impressed.

“Thank you for the snark, this early in the morning Jaken. Anything else you would like to add?”

He scoffs. “You should be taking my criticism with due gratitude! I mean, what sort of servant sleeps in and doesn’t even help cook breakfast?”

“I am no servant, I am a companion. And so what? Are you going to take breakfast away as my punishment, Jaken?” You smile and take the bowl of rice Rin hands you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Why, I should!”

“But you won't. Because you know the Lord wouldn't approve.” And with that, he shuts up, the click of his teeth snapping together audible. The innkeeper flinches, and draws back.

And, alright, you were only half bluffing; Sesshoumaru would be upset, but only because Jaken has no right to dole out punishments. That's his job.

You see the owner lady bow and start to head out, but you call to her before she could leave.

“Hey, have you eaten yet? You should sit with us.” She smiles politely, shaking her head, still bowing. She isn't that old actually, now that you look at her. Laugh lines and crow's feet, salt and pepper hair. Fifties, perhaps. Her eyes keep flickering towards Jaken, and she breathes shallowly.

“Esteemed guest, I am honored, but I could not dare to impose.”

“I’m asking you to impose. Don’t worry about Jaken, I can punt him like a football at any given opportunity.”

“No you can’t!” Before Rin can fill it, you take your empty teacup and beam it off his head. It lands with a satisfying crack and the imp falls with a sad cry.

“See? Also, the Lord is the esteemed guest here, not us. And, he’s not here. Please, sit and eat,” you tilt your head, peering just a bit closer at the woman.

“You look tired, actually. Are you alright?” Luckily, it doesn't take much more convincing before she sighs, and slides in the seat next to you, across Rin and Jaken.

“It is fine. There is much to do when you run an inn.”

“But you don't get many customers in this shack of a town, do you?” You glower at Jaken, who flinches back. You turn back to the innkeeper as he mutters something about “hormones and lady cycles’, in which Rin scolds him for you, and introduce yourself.

“And the little girl here is Rin.”

“H-Hello,” Rin stutters the word out, and bows. You watch the innkeeper for any sign of reproach, but she just smiles and bows back.

“I am pleased to be in such fine company. I am Numachi.” She smiles, and easily looks ten years younger.

“‘Numachi?’” Jaken always has to ruin things though.

“Odd choice for a family name.”

Her brow doesn't furrow, but she closes her eyes, inclines her head. “It was my late husband's name.”

“Well it's still–”

“ANYWAYS,” you cut in before he has another chance to be crude, “Not to validate Jaken, but it does seem you don't have many…patrons. So why do you look so tired?” She laugh-sighs, shoulders slumping, and the words spill from her, easily, like she's been waiting for someone to lend an ear.

“It was easier when I had my husband and two sons. But… after my husband passed, they left to travel to a more prosperous town, leaving me here…I run the errands by myself now.” You frown.

“They just left you alone when you needed them most?” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, they wanted to bring me along! But I’m much too attached to this place. It’s where I worked and stayed with my husband, after all. They are not far away anyways, they visit me every few months to check in. In fact, I received a letter at the beginning of this month that they would visit soon!” A smile paints her face, before consideration crawls over it; She lifts her sleeve and moves closer to you.

“Though, it's only after the new moon, and for that, I worry less. This post town used to be very prosperous, with many travelers and smaller inns. You can see the wreckage of them further into the town. But there's a demon, who's been eating all the residents for the past twenty years, under the veil of every new moon, and only then. The victims numbers keep increasing as time goes on, and soon…we will also be gone.”

Your mind quickly flashes to Sesshoumaru; The new moon will be soon, but for the next few nights at least, no one would be eaten, the demon wont get close unless they have a death wish. You think to tell her that but she goes on.

“Now we mostly trade amongst ourselves. It takes such a long time for me to finish all these chores, cleaning the rooms and the bathhouse, checking the hot springs and collecting my small wares to trade, or collecting the things I've traded in advance for.” Numachi-san looks at you, almost conspiratorially, though it's hard on such a soft face as hers.

“I…have traps further upstream the river than anybody goes. It's where you can catch the fattest fish, though I only catch a few every couple of days. It's very far upstream, so that nobody may stumble upon them and steal them, a little aways from the rice paddies Taiga-san owns. Though, I supposed the fish make their own way out of the traps, with how long it takes me to sneak up there.”

You pick at the fish on the table, seasoned with herbs and salt and vinegar, and take a mouthful of rice. Chew, swallow.

“There isn't much I am currently needed for, or need to do. I'd be happy to help with some chores. And please–” you cut her off, “don’t refuse because of hospitality. It would be kinder for the both of us if you received some help, and I find something to keep myself busy with.”

Rin immediately bounces up in her seat, rice grains stuck to her cheeks and waving her hand in the air. You laugh.

“And it seems like you have another eager helper too. Three, with Jaken.”

“I did not–” He withers under the blinding smile you shoot his way.

“So,” you grin back at Numachi-san. Please. what can we do first?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The empty basket bumps against your hip as you rush into the village. Jaken had kicked up a fuss, had wanted you to stay inside, but Rin had wheezed past him, wiping the floor with a rag, and started chasing his feet. While he was distracted, you memorized the list of things you were supposed to get, and made your escape.

The village really was tiny, even in the midst of such a sunny day. In a time when the village should be bustling, people just kept their eyes forward and went about their business. Oh, there was of course the ladies in their tight knit groups, knitting and gossiping. There was the odd maiden who glanced longingly at some fellow or another, a couple cute village boys, all stereotypical bullshit, yeah yeah, but this town felt…hollow.

Or rather, drained. Like an old, cracked egg.

Numachi-san was right, you saw a few wrecked buildings as you made your way through town, following her instructions. They looked old and fragile, like houses made out of matchsticks. You hurried past these buildings, set on your way.

First, you had to get to the apothecary, for the bundle of herbs she owed the innkeeper, then, to old man Taiga for the rice. But the rice paddies were on the other side of town, where the streams ran from. You could get the rice and check on the traps tomorrow.

Apothecary and cleaning today, rice and fish and cooking tomorrow.

The apothecary was a small, but a long nook of a place, dimly lit and crowded with plants, hanging vines and drying bundles of other things. The woman who ran it was a frail old lady, white haired, who hardly spoke a word of greeting to you before she dropped an assortment of…things into your basket. You checked it over–expensive things. Honey and pears and mushrooms, spices–Parsley, chrysanthemum, kaiware, …some other plants you haven't been in this era long enough to identify.

You were just sorting the basket on your arm when the lady slipped a few extra stuffs into your basket.

“Oh, was that also–”

“Extra.”

“Extra? For wha-”

“You're bleeding aren’t ya.” A woman of few, but blunt words. All knowing and terrifying in that knowledge. You nod.

She inclined her head towards the basket. “Ginger and ginseng to revitalize and heal the body, make it into a tea. You’re gonna need it, with that Lord of yours.”

“...What about him?” She rolled her eyes, a strange dark oak.

“Don’t be dense girl. He shut you in that inn for a reason, right? Take advantage! He doesn’t seem the type to wanna go at it in a cave or some sort. “ And she leans in grinning, sharp and white toothed.

“You gotta watch out though, those types are the ones who pretend to be all dignified, but they’re the ones who go at it like beasts.” And yeah oookay you get what she means.

“Oh, no no no no nooo, we’re not here for that. I’m just a companion! And…my period just ended and I need rest, you know?” But she doesn't buy it.

“So you’re not his wife, or concubine?”

“No.”

She nods. “Not yet then. How ‘bout that little girl, she yours?”

“Rin, the child? No, no, we just took her in.”

“We?" You catch your slip of tongue a moment too late, and flush red. The old lady’s edged eyes seem to stare right through you, sharp and inscrutable, as she grinds and cuts her herbs.

“Having trouble carrying that Lord’s child then, are you? That why you adopted her–”

“Goodness, no! I said it’s not like that! She is just…part of the group.” Even that sounds weak to your ears, and you start to back out of the shop.

“‘A companion’...” She clicks her tongue. “How naive. He’s a high class demon and a man. You’re either a snack or a concubine, and with that sweet young scent and body, you might end up as both. Best take advantage before then."

"What?"

"If you're on or near off your bleeding, you're at your most fertile. If he hasnt already he's gonna try to pop a litter in ya." You make a sound of disgust and she rolls her eyes like a grandmother at an unruly child.

“Listen, I’m a part of this group. He's not that depraved to do that, you dont know what you’re talking about!” You're shocked at the volume of your voice, bouncing off the walls, and the most this lady offers you in a raised bow.

“Ah, I see. You like him but you’re scared–of what? Or is it a pride thing?”

“I don’t-”

“You're naive, but not clueless then. But pride is an easy price to pay for a good life. Make a move if you haven't already. Seems he already cares for ya, if he’s feeding ya and shutting you in an inn for your bleedings.”

“It's a two way street sort of thing. I get rest and he doesn't have to fight all the demons attracted to the blood.”

“Really? Well I bet he gets the days wrong, always shuts you up when the bleedings already ending. Leaves lots of bodies on the way too for ya, huh? It's like when my kitty brings me birds; It's about proving strength and showing he can provide. Demon and a man, remember?”

“You don't know him like I do. You don't know anything.”

“I know most women don't get a choice between comfort or a pleasant partnership; you got the chance for both and you’re not making any moves. If I was young as you I'd kill to take your place. Many women have.”

“So I should, on their behalf? He’s arrogant and aloof and looks down on humans,” you counter. “Why would he want me?”

“He’s sympathetic enough to take in a human woman and child and an imp, so maybe he’s not all that. Maybe you should ask why exactly he shuts you up. Or why you want him in the first place?” She resumes her chopping, the scent wafting up as bitter and sharp as her eyes. She pauses.

“If you live to make a decision, come back here. I got things to help you, whether you want to give him a baby or not.” She doesnt look up as you scoff, or run out the shop. You try to cast her words from your mind.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It got your mind running though.

“Numachi-san,” The innkeeper elegantly turns her head towards you, prime and ready to serve. It kinda irks you, her effortless grace and subservience but you ignore that.

“Why do you think the Lord dropped us off here?”

“Hm?” She tilts her head. “Honored guest…I wouldn't dare to presume, it is not my place.”

“I'm asking you to presume. I won't hold any offense, so please.” Her eyes slowly slid over to Jaken, who was busy telling Rin off for the mess she was making. Rin just grins him away.

Numachi-san slides over to your side, lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth.

“Well, if I may be audacious…Are you not the Lord’s wife?” You would choke, if the apothecary had not shocked you with this presumption earlier.

She hesitantly went on as you remained silent.

“The Lord has demanded your comfort. You rode in on the back of a mule demon with the child, and you were…bleeding. I saw the spotting. Oh, honored guest, do I go too far?” You shake your head, waving your hand at the crease in her brow.

“No, it's a...reasonable idea to come to. But it is none of that, I assure you.”

“Oh? You are a…servant of the Lord then? How generous he is.” Generous is the last thing you would call him but you can't find the words to correct her.

Curiosity pokes at you. “Numachi-san, sorry if this is too much for you, but what was your husband like? Was he kind to you?”

She bursts into laughter, and the sound of it is so sudden and bitter, your eyes widen. She looks at you with something like pity, like you’re some young thing.

“Kindness is a rare thing in this world, honored guest. That's why we call it graciousness– because it always comes at a price. No, my husband was not kind, but he was gracious.” Her eyes seem so far away, and she sighs in ages past.

“He helped me with the hotsprings and the fish traps upstream. Getting firewood and supplying the inn with whatever we needed, rice, grain, barley, herbs, meat. My sons, when they were young, preferred to help me inside, at least until the younger twin started joining his father outside more often. They both didn't like people that much, busybodies. It was very crowded in those days so I understand.” And her eyes flick to the sides.

“But my husband…I cared for him, and he protected me. I’ve always been a frail thing, so I think he took it as ensuring my safety. I wasn’t madly in love with him as I was in my youth, but we enjoyed each other's company, which is more to be said then most marriages. Even so, after my sons were born…My duty as a mother overrode my duties as a wife. Not that it ever amounted to much, now that they all left me…” Another sigh, just pushing a small sob, her lipid eyes wet.

Wife. You’d never be a wife, in this era at least. Much less a willing mother. The chance of finding a decent partner that won't try and force you into domesticity is low, and lower still with the chances of Seshoumaru ever letting you go.

If you asked him, would he let you go? Maybe as you get older. Maybe if you ever found a way back to your world. But what about Rin? It's not like you could take her with you.

That night, after Rin has fallen asleep after another tale, you go wandering to the end of the hall, where the more opulent rooms lay. It's been unoccupied, but waiting a few minutes in the room yields results; Sesshoumaru appears as if he teleported, face forever calm and blank.

“What are you doing in my room?” The room you haven't been using? You want to snort, but rein that particular response in.

“Forgive me my Lord,” you incline your head. “I just had a bit of an…inquiry I wanted to bring to you.”

“And what ‘inquiry’ do you bring me?”

To your credit, you only hesitate for a second at the infliction in his voice. Almost a challenge, but with none of the wariness to suggest he expects any real threat from you. You press.

“Why do you send us to an inn during my bleedings?”

---------------

It's not a particularly shocking question, but he wonders why you asked it. And why his pulse spiked ever so slightly.

“The blood scent attracts demons.”

“...Forgive me my Lord, but you are strong enough to deal with them; The corpses you leave behind are plain evidence. And I suppose it's more than that…” So you noticed. You bite the nail of your thumb, already red and agitated like it's a habit, which it is. He wants to tell you to stop, you don't need to lose any more blood than you already have.

“It's just…We always stay at an inn towards the end of my period, always. If it's the blood that attracts predators, why not shut me up while I'm bleeding then? I know you…scout farther ahead but I bet you can tell when or before it starts, with your superior senses. We can plan better for this, y’know.”

How nonchalant, so self satisfied you seem with yourself that you meet his eyes head on. But as he stands there, holding your gaze like water in his palm, some shame finally finds you, its red flush crawling over your neck and ears and face.

How lovely. “You don't know, do you?” Your shame, that is.

“Huh?” Even now, honey wafts throughout the room. It's all he can smell–blood residue and earth, honeysuckle and moonlight. He inhales so slowly, so carefully, to not disturb it, lest it spreads throughout the room and stick to everything.

“I don't know…what?” He doesn't answer you. He looks about; certainly one of the better rooms, still paling in comparison for his tastes. The futon has not been brought out, good. He doesn't need any more temptations.

How clueless you are to his yearning, desire let sit to simmer for gods know how long.

Maybe from when you first stumbled onto his path, or how he noticed you never cowered near Jaken nor A-un, or even him; Cautious, but never fearful. Perhaps when your scent mellowed out with the addition of the child, or when you handed her flowers to braid in his hair. He wonders what the both of you would have done, had he dropped the farce of sleep, content to breathe in milk and honey. Would you jump back in shock, the child in your arms, or would you have grinned cheekily, teeth and all?

You're going to be the bane of his existence.

As he gazes about the room, he strides over to you in that way that makes you falter; Too swift and smooth to look like anything more than gliding, the illusion of being too fast to track as he stands before you; He tilts his head at the little squeak that leaves your lips as you stand eye to eye with his shoulder pauldron.

Everything about you screams acquiescence, submission, fertility. Your smell, the extra luster to your hair, the extra plump to your face and hips….

He sighs. He finds himself pressing the flat of his tongue against his fangs, the roof of his mouth, to catch that cloying fragrance. There is a sort of fondness he holds for you that he is not sure is wise, nor gentle; It's a kind of fondness that demands both your tears and your desperation.

“Attend to me.”

------------

“Attend to me.”

You mind blanks, before you spring into action. He walks over to the low table and seats himself, while you try to figure out how to take off his metal shoulder pad..thingy. It's attached by these red ropes, which are attached to that other black metal petal…thingy–wait, you should probably undo that yellow sash first. And that fluffy cape (it's sooo fluffy. But also literally alive? What is it?)

Sesshoumaru doesn't aid nor correct you, he hardly sighs as you fumble about, shutting his eyes as you work. He inhales deeply, once. He must be tired. Maybe that's why he’s entertaining you and not throwing you out the room. There's been a few close calls of that, so you know the warning signs- he emits none of them. He’s calm.

Finally, you get to that cherry blossom patterned Kimono, a crisp white and red pattern. Expensive. Hm. You wonder what his thread count is. Must be high. He lifts a hand as you hesitate for his undershirt; He just loosens the collar (and, skin!), and gestures towards the sake on the table that just suddenly appeared, a single cup to match.

As you pour it, a thought pops into your head.

“You can repair your armor and clothing with demonic energy, yes?” He actually raises an eyebrow, but only by a few millimeters. “Yes. And?”

So you couldn’t just like…Magic it all off?

You only shake your head and pour the alcohol into the flat sakazuki cups. He takes it from you and drains it immediately, and you refill it quickly. He drinks, and you look him over.

Your eyes trail down his form, not for pleasure, (because yeah, he’s beautiful, but he’s so beautiful it’s kinda scary, you know?), your eyes fall to the empty sleeve of his left arm, and you sober.

He had dropped you off in some village one day, where you stood for a few days. Jaken was the one to retrieve you, and you came back to a demon lord with one less arm and a tiny child with matted hair. You did your best, but you were only able to fix one of those.

He catches your gaze before you can tactfully retreat, and his eyes narrow, daring you.

You cringe back. “Okay, okay, no need for the death glare. Just…curious.”

His unspoken question prompts you to answer.

“Just…um…Does it feel any different?” It's stupid even before it leaves your mouth, and you see the growing irritation in the set of his mouth, You set down the sake to wave your hands.

“No, no, I mean…! Like, there's stories, from my era I mean, and other stories from before obviously, but amputees each recall their experience differently. One thing that's common though is this thing called Phantom limb; It's like…they have the feeling of still having their limb, even though it is not there. I was just curious if you had…experienced that…” Your voice trails off, meek.

When you look up, he’s looking at the loose sleeve. His hair covers whatever expression he wore before he turns back to the lowrise table.

“Oftentimes, I could swear my hand would be curled, but when I look it is still gone.” A clawed hand raises itself, and removes the shoulder of his undershirt, revealing the ragged scar marring the milkiest skin you ever saw.

“It aches, and not just the old wound. Phantom limb is accurate. I have to look and remind myself of what I lost.”

You try not to wince. “At least you have your life. I wouldn’t say you lost.” Nobody said anything of what happened to him, how he got so injured. You had to bribe Jaken with some rice cakes to even know it was another inu youkai, or hanyo, as Jaken sneered, so it's kinda scary to think there are demons stronger than the Lord in front of you, whose face and skin is smooth, but his eyes stony, like gilded marble.

“No, I lost that battle.” Sore loser then? You shrug.

“Well, I count it as a victory if I’m still alive at the end of it all.” And your impassive Lord actually snorts, closing his eyes.

“Spoken like a true loser then. Weakling.”

“Yes, and a coward. But alive still.” Silence threatens to fall, so you rush before it.

“Could you, possibly, regrow it?” He is a demon after all…

But his fist unclenches, settles back in his lap. His face is calm again, like a freshwater lake.

“There is something halting that.” And still, Silence falls like a dull knife.

This time, he takes the sake bottle and serves himself, quickly downing the drink and serving himself another. Are…demons impervious to the effects of human alcohol or…?

Maybe he’s just trying to get plastered???

Slowly, an idea forms in your head, so slowly, solidifying like fog. You act on it before you can lose the courage, opening your mouth to recite.

“Countless,

My Lord, are the years

That stretch before you;

In such an illustrious house,

A dewdrop is what I would be”

…People in this era are big on poetry, right? They’re not supposed to look at you like you just spoke in a dead language, right?

“That is Ise no Miyasudokoro. You know of her, in your modern era?” You ignore the snide.

“I was in college, working on getting my Master’s degree. One of my electives was a poetry course.” You shrug. “So yes, I know of her.”

He affords you a look, an actual look; He checks the planes of your face and the depths of your eyes, and you don't know what he's looking at exactly, but he responds,

“The everlasting (moon):

Growing in its midst

Is my home, so

In its light alone

Can I place my trust.”

Oh! You perked up at the mention of a moon, y'know, people here really like using it as a metaphor, another poem ready at your lips;

“As a general rule

I would not praise the moon

For it

Piles upon men

The burden of increasing age.”

“And now Ariwara no Narihira? Was he also part of your curriculum?” You notice it, the regard in his voice, like a drop of paint in a glass of water, settling.

“Anyone interested in literature can't skip over Ariwara. He’s a classic.” Again, bluffing a little; your teacher passed him over very briefly, and you hate leaving any stone unturned, so you did some research on your own. (And thank goodness)

“I know of him and his work, but he is far from my favorite. Do you, perhaps…hold any favor to a poem in particular?”

A nail, long and sharp, trails the flat rim of the sake glass. He seems to be contemplating, before he answers you in that impassive voice of his, even and toneless.

“In the summer mountains

From the treetop heights

Cuckoos’

Calls fill the sky

As does my love.”

Oh wow… “Ki no Turayuki? That's oddly…passionate.”

“Do you think I'm incapable?”

“Of passion?” What a loaded question. “No my Lord just…restrained.”

“I prefer…longanimous.” You laugh at that.

“What adversity do you face to show such restraint then, Lord Sesshoumaru? The world is already at the tips of your fingers.” He doesn't answer, but drinks. The silence that sails in is more weighted than you expected, and you regret your choice of words, already. Maybe he would have spoken of these ordeals. Was it the alcohol, or is the Lord being more…indulgent this night?

You turn your head, and notice the shoji door left ajar. So you stand, and draw it back, letting the night breeze filter throughout the room. It's nice. The perfect temperature, and the moon is just short of a perfect waning crescent. Soon there will be a new moon, and there will be no demons attacking this month. How lucky.

“Poems from the Sengoku era focus mostly on the tanka and renga format. In my era of modern technology, there is access to many forms of poetry, from all over the world. It's hard for me to pick a favorite.”

“Indecisive as always.”

“Oh, is that mirth I hear? I consider myself enamored with the written word. Even if I can only remember bits and pieces, from here and there.”

“Then what can you remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” you repeat, “lines and quotes. And if I must recite them rapid-fire I fear I’ll only prove redundant.”

“I want to hear you, nevertheless.” You have to calm yourself, otherwise you fear your heart will leap out instead of your words if you speak. You wrestle it back down your throat, but there's still a tremor in your voice.

“Bits and pieces, hm?...It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants’, by Vladirmir Nabokov. Nizar Qabbani, ‘Because my love for you reaches higher than words, I've decided to fall silent.’ Venetta Octavia, ‘I say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise’. Andrea gibson, ‘come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.’ ‘Will you remember that i existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’”

“That last one was by Haruki Murakami,” you sigh. “...You can imagine, I got high grades for my poetry elective.” You try to laugh, to make light of this moment, but it feels stilted and awkward.

The cool air stings a little as you breathe, but you hold it in, and exhale. And when you look up, you jolt.

He finishes closing the last bit of distance, looks down at you from his imposing height. How old is he…? His face you wouldn't call youthful, despite its softness. It's those eyes- they’re too pointed.

“Do I displease you, my lord?”

“No, you do not.” A knuckle taps at your head. “But your denseness frustrates me.”

“You mean…?” He rolls his eyes, a soft snarl building in his throat.

“You are not one for subtlety, are you.” His nails, like razors hovering closer. You could shiver, and not from the cold. Not from fear. Even when that strange hesitancy of his melts beneath a scowl, and he reaches forward more assuredly, yes, but rougher too. You speak before he touches you.

“You don’t have to hurt me, y’know.” His eyes streak back to yours, breathless and bright at your own boldness.

“You don't have to hurt me to justify touching me. You can just…”

Slowly, you tip your face into the open plane of his palm, cool, like all the rest of him, you’d imagine. His fingers flex, his hands so large that his nails brush your hairline.

His hand isn’t smooth, it’s rough and calloused and cold, but the coolness feels nice. So you press your face closer and use your hands to hold it there.

You don't expect the sharp exhale, or for when he pulls you closer, and you jolt at the suddenness. A finger strokes at the hairs on the back of your neck and you shiver, again.

“I’m disciplined enough to restrain my desires, not curb them when they are released.” And just as quickly as he pulled you close, he let you go. “Tell me now. I won't have a tearful servant girl in my bed; You must be willing or not at all.” He almost sighs the words, continuous and melodious in that voice.

Is it taking advantage, if you give in? Lust was easy, easier to indulge.

You aren’t going to deny the butterflies you stomp down, in these quiet moments. And these moments aren’t infrequent– whether you continue to talk around a dying fire at a campsite, or taking shelter for a storm within a cave. It was a bit of a girl crush you had on the Lord, and you could give in, very willingly.

But should you? What would the ramifications be…?

“I…” And you pause, because you hear something. You perk up, turning back to the door you came from. You listen, both of you, and then you hear it again–muffled cries. Rin is having another nightmare.

“My Lord, Rin is…” You hesitate to go, the moment clinging to you like a mist, but then you hear your name.

You’re already detangling yourself from his hold and making your way towards the door when you remember yourself, and turn to bow towards your Lord.

“I’m sorry, I have to go make sure Rin is…” He waves you off, turns towards the open window where you can't see his face, see him gather himself.

“Yes. Go. See to her.”

You nod and step back, but a part of you feels off, leaving him like this. What timing.

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but I haven't told you my favorite poem yet, my Lord. I hope we can continue this conversation at another time.” You bow, one last time, before you hurry out.

------------

Sesshoumaru sighs, viscous longing in his chest like hunger pains.

How dense are you? Must he lay out each of his desires for you for you to understand? You speak words of affection so easily, that when he does the same they fall upon deaf ears. He is not one to be overt. You are horrible at looking in between the lines, though.

It is wrong to feel this way over a human. Weak things, inherently inferior, yes, but perhaps you are all the more enchanting for it. It would be more unnatural if he were to let you be, to not taste the salt of your skin or the honey that wafts from you. The hint of arousal he caught, when he towered over you. You are an Omega in heat. He is an Alpha. What else is there? You serve him anyways, should you not be rewarded so?

His skin crawls, where it has touched yours.

And still, that honeyscent sticks throughout the room.

A/N: Was the poetry a bit too on the nose? I feel like sesshoumaru isnt the type for grand dispalys of affection or confession, he's way more lowkey lol. But here are the poems I used in order.

Ise/ Ise/ Narihira/ Ki No Tsurayuki/

#my stuff #my writing #writing collab #spring fever #spring fever 2024 #inuyasha #sesshoumaru #sesshomaru #lord sesshoumaru #sesshoumaru x reader #reader insert #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #tw: a/b/o #a/b/o au #tw: omegaverse #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale

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